


A Somber Boy/Prayed to the Wrong Angel

by Prodigal_anon



Series: Reverse Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunter!Cas, M/M, Tickling, angel!dean, pre-destiel, reverse verse, ticklish!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigal_anon/pseuds/Prodigal_anon
Summary: Cas is pestered by his brothers and asks for angelic aid, which turns out to be a mistake.





	A Somber Boy/Prayed to the Wrong Angel

     “…And  _ that’s _ why I don’t like cricket.”

     “…Fuck, you’re annoying.  Okay, can you just – you’re not British.  You’re my brother, you were born in Lebanon, Kansas, I grew up with you, we never left the country except that one road trip to Vancouver.  You’re not British!  Can you  _ please _ stop talking like you’re from bloody London, eh wot?”

 

     “All right, first, that’s a terrible accent.  I thought you said you watched Downton Abbey all the time –“

 

     “…I never really watched Downton Abbey.  I just said I did to fit in.”

 

     “Bloody idiot.  Whatever, you sound terrible, and secondly, maybe  _ you _ didn’t leave the country, but I spent five years hunting Black Annis in Leicestershire, which is nowhere near London, incidentally – ”

 

     “Okay, five years in Merry Olde Englande does not make you Harry Potter –”

 

     “-It’s called accent mimicry, you imbecile, it’s a very common thing!  Same thing happened to Madonna, you know, when she went off with Guy Ritchie.”

 

     “ _ Madonna _ .  Oh, you  _ douche _ !”

 

     Cas stares out the window and lets the sound of his brothers’ argument wash over him.  It’s annoying, yes, but also comforting.  The novelty hasn’t worn off yet, of having people around him all the time.  Having  _ family _ around him all the time.  He hadn’t heard this for years – Gabriel had left home when the arguments between Dad and Anna had started heating up, about seven years ago when Cas was thirteen, and Balthazar hadn’t been far behind.  The memories are coming back to him now though, of these conversations between the two eldest brothers, noisy and complaining and still always  _ family _ .  What had Anna been doing in those days?  She had laughed more then, he’s certain.  So had Dad, he thinks.  So had Cas himself, probably, though everyone agrees he had been a somber child, thus the reason (they claim) that they had to constantly tickle him so much.  ‘It’s the only way we could get you to smile!’ Gabriel and Balthazar insist when it comes up.

 

     “Balthazar, are you joking – you know what, you were just too young to appreciate her glory days in the nineties.  That’s it.  Otherwise you wouldn’t even be bringing up her Oughties crap.”

 

     “Oughties is not a real word!  You cannot just make up a word to suit your conversation –“

 

     “Ha!  Works for Dean.”

 

     “…Heh.  Good point.”

 

     Cas had suspected this ‘too solemn’ ruse to be bullshit for years, but now Dean’s showed up, and he says similar things as he sits on Cas and tickles him senseless, so Cas supposes he has to resign himself to the fact that there’s just something about him that makes people want to attack him with their wriggling fingers. 

 

     This line of thought makes him fidget slightly, and he firmly shuts down that mental image by returning his attention to the front of the car.  But unfortunately:

 

     “Nah, that was ‘Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.’  Which Cassie back there refused to laugh at.”

 

     “Oh, right, he did scowl through the whole thing, didn’t he?”

 

     Cas blinks, then frowns faintly.  “’Bill and Ted’?  I didn’t scowl.  I just didn’t find it amusing.”

 

     Both of his older brothers are glancing back at him, eyebrows raised.  Then they look at each other, sigh, and reach back with perfect synchronization to begin squeezing his knees.  Cas yelps and begins giggling immediately, trying to shift his legs out of harm’s way, with little success.  “AAACK, nuh-no, cuh-hut it out ahaaheeheestoppit!!” 

 

     “You’re the one making us do this, Kiddo,” says Gabriel, infuriatingly casual as he raises his voice a little to be heard over Cas’s laughter, keeping his eyes on the road as he torments his much-younger brother.

 

     “ If you just admit that you are a grouch with no sense of humor, we might consider stopping,” Balthazar adds solemnly.

 

     “I-heehee it just ahahaHAHA, itjustwasn’tfunny!!” Cas blurts out between giggles, now resorting to punching both of his brothers wildly and still ineffectively.

 

     “Hmm.  He must not want us to stop?” Gabriel asks Balthazar, ignoring Cas’s howled protests otherwise.

 

     “Seems that way.  Come on, Cassie, it was a classic!”

 

     The two are monsters.  Balthazar is squeezing rapidly and lightly, just pinching and tweaking really, and since he isn’t driving he has a hand free to block Cas’s attempts at grabbing their hands.  Gabriel, on the other hand, is squeezing slowly and deliberately, countering Balthazar, and the combination is driving Cas wild.  He’s stuck in the backseat, trapped, and he knows from far too much experience that they’ll carry on forever as long as he keeps making funny noises, so -

 

     “Deeheeheeeeann!” Cas cries, slumping over helplessly, and finally, blessedly, his brothers’ fingers still as the radio station briefly fritzes out and a confused-looking Dean suddenly is seated next to him, his large bulk squishing him into Cas’s space.  Gabriel swears, startled and swerving slightly before pulling over and turning round to glare at Dean.

 

     “… The hell kinda prayer was that?”  Dean is asking, peering curiously at Cas, who’s hunching over to protect his knees, residual giggles still bubbling out of him.

 

     “The prayer of a desperate man,” Balthazar informs him, grinning.  Dean turns an unimpressed look to both of them. 

 

     “Okay, but seriously, why am I here?”

 

     “Ask the Righteous Man!”

 

     Cas remains folded over, feeling his face redden, and mumbles into his arms.

 

     “Cas?”  Dean sounds genuinely puzzled.  Gabriel is laughing in the front seat.  The bastard. 

 

     He sits up abruptly, nearly knocking into Dean’s head as he does so, and folds his arms defiantly.  “They wouldn’t stop tickling me!” he says to the gearshift, refusing to look at anyone else. 

 

     He can  _ feel _ them looking at him, can feel their  _ grins _ , and he tries not to fidget but fails. 

 

     “So, you prayed for me – an Angel of the Lord – and called me down from Heaven, just because your brothers were – tickling you?”  Dean’s voice has gone deep and shivery, and at first it invokes memories of that time in the barn in the dark, Cas gaping up at the figure of a man with the silhouette of something more on the walls behind him, thunder in his voice and fire in his eyes, but then the ‘tickling’ word at the end breaks the spells and Cas pulls a resigned face as he finally looks up.

 

     Dean is wickedness incarnate, and grinning like his face is going to split.  The expression is complemented by the smirks on his brothers’ faces. 

 

     “Dude,” Dean says, in tones of great delight, “you prayed to the  _ completely _ wrong person for help.”

 

     Cas has time to make a wordless noise of protest before three sets of wriggling fingers attack him.


End file.
